1) "If you compared the Wall, Texas, of today with the Wall, Texas, of my childhood, you would hardly recognize it, because the Wall, Texas, of today has a gas station. And if you think having a gas station is not that big of a deal, then you're probably the kind of person who grew up in a town that has a gas station, and that doesn't encourage students to drive to school in their tractors. [...] Our yearbook theme one year was simply 'Where's Wall?' because it was the question you'd get asked every time you told someone you lived there. The original—and more apt—theme had been 'Where the fuck is Wall?' but the yearbook teacher quickly shot down that concept, saying that age-appropriate language was important, even at the cost of journalistic accuracy."

2) "Every time we'd go back to visit West Texas it would change a bit. The cotton fields slowly gave way to subdivisions. The tractors were upgraded and new. I'd drive around our old town to find that the snow-cone shack I'd worked at was replaced by a parking lot. The skating rink was shuttered and abandoned, the sign filled with empty birds' nests. The bookstore where I'd met Victor was gone now, and my grandparents' home was sold soon after they died. Each year, my father's small taxidermy shop grew until it became a true business, with an always-busy parking lot beside my parents' home. One day I came home to visit and was shocked to see that the elementary school I'd walked to each day had become an alternative school for pregnant teens, and the school playground I'd lived in each summer had been ripped out and demolished. My sister and I walked through the aftermath of the playground together and I took a small piece of the rubble to remember it by. Now when I pass by the school I look away and remember it the way it was, with the dangerous metal seesaws and merry-go-rounds that eventually disappeared all over America. All that remains of it today is the memory, still echoing in my head, of the sound of my favorite swing, squeaking rustily and comfortingly, over and over, back and forth."

3) "And then Victor told me to just go stay at a hotel, and that he'd take care of everything when he came back in a few days. I was half tempted, but I told Victor that I already felt bad enough for not being there for Barnaby when he'd died, and I was damned if I was going to desert him while he was being eaten. Victor told me to calm down, because I sounded like I was hyperventilating. I pointed out that I was just out of breath because I was outside, swinging the machete at the vultures. Then Victor realized that I must be using his hands-free headset, and he got all kinds of pissed off that I was 'getting it sweaty.' And that's when I hung up on him. Because getting a headset sweaty was kind of small potatoes compared to the fact that I was brandishing a machete at large raptors, while considering the pros and cons of hiring a pimp to dig up our dead dog. Victor kept yelling at me, though, since technically I didn't actually know how to hang up a hands-free headset, but I explained that he was wasting his breath, because I'd already hung up the phone in my mind and wasn't listening anymore. Then he got really shouty, so I started singing 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' to drown him out, and that's when my neighbor showed up again."

4) "When you cross over into our old hometown, you can pretty much guarantee that something fucked up is going to happen, but you're really never prepared for what it is. You may come in knowing that you're probably going to get a little blood on you, but you never think it's going to be your own. The morning of the day when I was partially mauled, Hailey and I walked outside my parents' back door to see a stranger in a black hat and a bloody rubber apron, who was missing only a mask made of human skin and a chain saw to bring his whole outfit together. He apparently worked for my father, and he'd strung up a buck that he was in the process of skinning. He smiled naturally at Hailey and me, while he seemed to be digging his hands deep into the deer's pockets, as if he were looking for his keys. Turned out, though, that deer don't even have pockets, and he'd simply lost a glove in the deer. These are the things you come in expecting when you're in Wall, and so you aren't completely surprised when a stranger cheerfully yells at your preschooler to come over and help him 'undress Mr. Reindeer because that'll be a hootload of fun!'"